Written by

Free Press Correspondent

Related Links

John Varricchione, 66, has strong memories of growing up in the heart of Burlington’s Little Italy, he said last Monday while he and his wife helped their friend Mary Anne Gucciardi make a batch of her famous meatballs in their Burlington kitchen.

At one point, Varricchione donned an apron imprinted with the name of the Vermont Italian Club and three photos from the early1900s of three families who were among the pillars of the community: the Eveltis, the Varricchiones and the Merolas.

His grandfather, Luigi Varricchione, originally came to Burlington in 1912 at the suggestion of the Merolas who preceded him and who hailed from the same town about an hour east of Naples back in Italy.

The family first lived on Cherry Street at the core of the Italian neighborhood, and Luigi Varricchione made wine in his basement like many of the area’s Italian families. He was a member of the Vermont Italian Club in the 1930s when it was men-only, although the club hosted regular meals for everyone, charging 50 cents for men and a quarter for women and children. The club maintains the tradition with an annual fundraising dinner in late winter or early spring. (See vermontitalianclub.org for more information.)

Varricchione remembers back to when he was 9 or 10 “going to mass with my father at the old Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception” and then walking a block to where his grandmother lived on South Union Street with one of her sons after her husband passed away.

“There were grapevines growing up the wall and a garden in the back for herbs,” Varricchione recalled. “Grandma would often be making pasta from scratch and it would be hanging all over on wooden drying racks or laid out on the bed on a clean sheet. She would serve me a bowl of pasta with sauce or a bowl of her greens and beans. On occasion,” he added, “she’d pull out the anisette and little Johnny got to taste.”

Both Varricchione and Gucciardi recalled the bustling Italian stores with cheeses and salamis hanging from the ceiling and shelves holding big jars of olives and boxes of torrone, Varricchione’s favorite nougat candy.

(Page 2 of 2)

“We’d go to the store for penny candy,” said Varricchione. “There was Merola’s and also Izzo’s Market. Both stores were very generous in allowing people to buy on credit.” The whole neighborhood was lost to urban renewal by the late 1960s, Varricchione explained sadly.

Looming large in his recollections was the image of the Italian mama “with plenty of love and food to share,” Varricchione said. There were always many mouths to feed, he said with a chuckle: “There weren’t too many small Italian families.”

Varricchione’s parents, Francesco and Simone (known as Si), raised their eight children at 85 Bank St. and then 78 Pine St. (now a law office).

“We would have crowds to eat,” said Varricchione, recalling with relish how his mother browned pork chops and then slow-braised them in red sauce. Even though his mother, like Gucciardi’s mother, was originally French-Canadian, she learned all the Italian recipes and became a true Italian mama and then nonna.

In a family history written by Varricchione’s wife, Joanne, she describes the scene:

“Everyone managed to squeeze around the kitchen table while Nona [sic] stood watch over the stove, stirring her delicious sauce. The menu seldom varied: spaghetti and meatballs, chicken or pork, salad, wine, garlic bread and ice cream. The laughter and commotion only added to the wonderful aromas and meals she prepared… Si seldom sat down and ate with the family; she preferred to make sure everyone had enough to eat. (‘Does anyone need more sauce?’ was the question she always asked.) ‘No, Ma. Come and sit down.’ ‘I will in a minute.’ It was a habit she never broke.”